The Spaniard's Pleasure: The Spaniard's Pregnancy Proposal / At the Spaniard's Convenience / Taken: the Spaniard's Virgin

‘You want me as much as I want you.’

Fleur’s teeth clenched as she heard the smug inflection in his voice. She wanted to scream with sheer frustration. She had done what she had sworn she would never do again, she had revealed her vulnerability.

‘Hormones, not heart!’ she snarled. ‘And get that look off your face. I wouldn’t have you if you came gift-wrapped!’

Unwrapping the parcel might be fun, though. The forbidden thought brought a fresh prickle of heat to her skin.

Her jaw clenched as she faced him with all the aggression of a small, cornered animal.

‘I like my life the way it is. Why the hell would I want to have any part of yours, or, for that matter, you? In case you hadn’t noticed, Antonio, you’ve got baggage.’

‘And you are one of those women who consider a family an undesirable encumbrance?’

His hypocrisy was more than she could bear. ‘This from the man who hasn’t stopped for one second since he learnt he was a father to appreciate how damned lucky he is.’

Antonio looked startled. ‘Lucky…?’

‘Yes, lucky. So very, very lucky.’ She felt her eyes fill and blinked angrily.

Antonio saw the tears and frowned. He knew there was something he was missing, but he knew when to keep quiet.

The words continued to spill from her. ‘A child may not fit in with your playboy image, but some people would envy you. Do you have any idea how many people would love to be in your position?’ she demanded. ‘You may have lost out on Tamara’s early years, but you have her now.

‘If you’re not totally stupid and blow it completely, she’ll be part of your life for the foreseeable future. Do you know how lucky that makes you in my book?’ she raged. ‘People like you who don’t appreciate what they have really make me mad!’

She dabbed the back of her hand angrily to brush away the tears sliding down her cheeks. ‘How many people want a family and can’t have one? How many people have a f-family and lose him…?’

Crying in earnest now, she covered her mouth with her hand and closed her eyes tight. The painful sound of her choked sobs filled the awful silence as it stretched.

‘Who did you lose, Fleur?’

‘I had a miscarriage…’

Antonio had never experienced a mood swing so swift or drastic. He looked at her bowed head and experienced the most overwhelming desire to make her stop hurting.

‘It was a difficult pregnancy…apparently these things happen for no reason sometimes,’ she explained, accepting the handkerchief that was pushed into her hand.

Their eyes met and she saw enormous compassion, which Fleur’s defensive mechanisms translated as pity.

Pity was the one thing she couldn’t, wouldn’t, take! She took one enormous gulping breath and tried to feign calm. Inside she was a breath away from completely losing it.

‘It was eighteen months ago, and I don’t want to talk about it.’

He studied her face in silence for a moment and then almost imperceptibly nodded. ‘Fine,’ he said, ‘then let’s get back to a subject close to both of our hearts…sex.’

‘I don’t believe you; you’re such a callous opportunist!’ she cried.

‘You didn’t want my sympathy. I’m only offering what you do want. Don’t you think it’s ever so slightly childish under the circumstances to pretend that we don’t both need to get this thing out our systems?’

‘Oh, my, the romance!’ she gushed sarcastically. ‘The old-fashioned charm that is so absent from modern life. Now I know why no woman can resist you.’ She threw him a look of total contempt and stalked out of the room.

Chapter Eleven

A COUPLE of eager students had stayed behind at the end of the last session of the day to ask Fleur’s advice. Normally she was only too happy to put in extra time, but today she wanted to go home and escape all the curious eyes.

By the time she finally made it to the staff car park hers was the only car left. She dug into the pockets of her coat and came up empty, so, shoving her bag on one hip, she scrabbled inside for her elusive car keys and discovered everything but. Impatient, she resorted to emptying the entire contents of her capacious bag on the top of the car bonnet and almost immediately saw her keyring—saw it a second before it slid to the ground and then in slow motion vanished down the grating of a drain.

Fleur lifted her hands to her head and released a cry of sheer disbelief before dropping down to her knees, oblivious to the fact her coat was dragging on the wet ground. Through the grating she could see what might have been the glint of metal. She tried to move the heavy covering, but accepted it was futile after a few seconds. The darned thing was lodged tight.

She brushed her grubby fingers together and sat back on her heels.

‘Great, the perfect end to a perfect day!’ She heaved a sigh and felt the prickle of self-pitying tears sting her eyelids. ‘Someone really doesn’t like me—’ She broke off as a pair of shiny shoes came into view.

And here was someone else who didn’t like her.

‘Are you stalking me?’ She had to raise her voice above the deafening thud of her accelerated heartbeat.

‘I have come to apologise.’

Breathless excitement was not the reaction of a sane person to the voice of a man she loathed. But then sanity had nothing to do with the things she felt around Antonio!

‘Apology accepted, now go away,’ she grunted without lifting her eyes from foot level.

‘Earlier—’

‘Does the word grapevine mean anything to you? Have you any idea of how many versions of earlier are circulating by now? Until today when I walked down the corridor nobody stared or whispered.’ Actually not everyone was whispering! ‘And I have to tell you that was the way I liked it. Living your life in a goldfish bowl may appeal to you, but some of us enjoy our privacy.’

An expression of incredulous disbelief washed over Antonio’s face as he stared at the top of her silky head. In his experience women were all too aware of the effect they had on the opposite sex.

‘If you thought you ever faded into the background you are totally deluded.’ His hands clenched at his sides as he visualised those anonymous eyes covetously following her every move.

The tug Fleur had been fighting became impossible to resist, and her eyes were drawn upwards until they reached his dark face. Back-lit by the hard pale light of the overhead security light, his face looked all fascinating angles and intriguing hollows.

He looked dangerous and complicated and sinfully gorgeous—he was all three. Their eyes locked and a sharp illicit thrill chased along her receptive nerve endings.

Her throat felt achy and raw as she protested, ‘I’m not deluded!’

‘You’re—!’ His eyes slid from hers. ‘Fine, you’re not deluded,’ he acceded, sounding as if he was bored with the entire subject.

His patronising attitude really got under Fleur’s skin. ‘Don’t humour me. I’m not a child.’

‘But if you’re not deluded you just live in some sort of alternative universe.’ He subjected her face to a feature-by-feature inspection before explaining in a husky voice that sent a tingle all the way down to her toes, ‘Because, believe me, in this world men do not not notice a woman who looks the way you do.’

‘I’m ordinary,’ she protested.

‘Your skin is totally flawless.’ Fleur froze as he squatted down to her level. Her eyes half closed as he ran his finger down the curve of her cheek. ‘And,’ he rasped in a mesmerising whisper, ‘like silk.’

‘Very funny.’ Her breath coming in a series of choky, uneven little gasps, she turned her head to break the debilitating contact.